


Guiding Hand

by Enchantable



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Major Character Injury, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raleigh is accustom to pain. Mako changes his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guiding Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Mako starts noticing that Raleigh's arm is bothering him.

It happens so subtly that if she didn’t know him as well as she knows herself, Mako thinks she would have missed it. 

For all his smallness, Raleigh is not still. His presence doesn’t flood the room like the other Jaeger pilots. If anything it’s like he’s trying to disappear, to fade into the shadows as she’s prone to doing. But he’s always moving. He’s like the hummingbirds Stacker showed her in a book, he mut move or he will die. Mako knows that isn’t true but Raleigh’s subconscious doesn’t agree. His fingers are always playing with something or drumming on his thigh or reaching for one of the hard candies she knows he keeps in his pocket. She knows all his ticks. She’s felt the comfort they bring him. 

So when they slowly get replaced by his hand going to his shoulder, she notices immediately. 

This isn’t a gesture for comfort. Not if the way his mouth tightens is any indication. He’s told her his arm is shot but after their minds melded she understands a bit better. The aches are real but they’re worse because of what happened with Gipsy. His mind remembers getting his limb torn off. Now it remembers getting both. But his left arm is actually injured. He hides it very well but Mako can see how he’s reacting to things. 

Problem is whenever he sees her looking at him he drops his hand and goes back to one of the ticks. He smiles and reaches for a candy or something, like nothing’s wrong in the world. She doesn’t call him out on it, just glances down at his hand in her own silent way of telling him he isn’t fooling her. But if holding his arm temporarily makes him feel better, then she doesn’t want to give him a reason to stop. 

She can’t exactly force him to get it checked out either. 

He’s an adult and he’s entitled to do things even if they are wrong. Mako knows he’s still dealing with the damage of his original injury. She’s worried he’ll deal with this in the same manner. But she doesn’t want to force him. Especially since she knows his issues are just as mental as they are physical. Instead she begins to think and comes up with her own plan for how they can move this in another direction. 

It takes her a day or two to gather supplies and work up the nerve to go across the hall for something other than her usual reasons. 

He opens the door shirtless. 

"Hey, Mako," he says with an easy smile, “hang on, let me get a shirt," he tells her like he usually does. 

"No," she says, halting his hand before it can reach for the white cotton tank he favors, “sit," she says. 

He opens his mouth to say something and then closes it, his features softening. A part of Mako wants to clobber him. They are not in the drift and yet he can see through her as if he’s still in her head. She knows she’s doing a good job at hiding her nervousness and that she needs the opening he’s offering her. But some horribly girlish part of her wants to say nevermind and retreat across the hall. 

She sternly reminds herself that co-pilots take care of each other. Even if they’re at least a year out from getting back in a Jaeger. They are still co-pilots and if his arm gets worse he may not pass the physicals anymore. He drags the standard issue metal chair over to where she’s standing. He only moves it with his good arm and Mako fights not to cringe at the obviousness of it. 

When he settles she steps behind him and slides the small bottle from her pocket. She pours some of the gel into her hands and rubs them together. Gently she places her hand on his shoulder. He tenses at the touch and she stills. A hollow laugh escapes his lips. 

"That’s cold," he says. 

"It is supposed to be," she tells him. 

He nods his head faintly but keeps his eyes ahead as she slowly begins to work the muscles. She tries not to go hard. She’s not trying to make things worse. But she can feel the tension radiating off him, feel the muscles tremble underneath her fingertips. She starts at his shoulder, above the place where his scars begin and where Gipsy’s arm got ripped off. Her fingers press against his skin as she focuses on the knots. 

She’s intent on her work. Her focus is one of her prized abilities. She lasers in on the task and everything else just fades away. There’s a comfort in knowing she can still do it, still do this. She works at his shoulder, moving her hands down to his scars as she continues to get the muscles to relax. She follows the line of his arm, moving the limb where she needs it to go. He keeps himself loose, letting her move his arm where she needs it to be. 

She’s working the kinks out of his forearm when she starts to see the small burns. They’re faded and old enough to be completely healed but her fingers pause over the puckered skin. 

"Just wielding stuff," he says and her eyes fly up, “building that wall," he adds. 

She nods her head and goes back to her work. She knows all of those things. She’s felt each of them be burned onto her own skin. Even the darker, angrier ones that are the result of no money for medicine. She spends extra time on those ones, even though it’s been too long and there isn’t much she can do. Finally she comes to his hands and begins to work those as well. She can feel his fingers quake slightly under hers, but it isn’t as bad as it usually is. 

When she’s finished she dares to look up at him.

He looks relaxed. A hundred times more relaxed than she thinks she’s ever seen him. Her fingers linger on his hand as she sees him. She knows he’s always looking for those moments when her control slips, when she’s her most honest self. But that is a two way street and she finds that what she looks for is the moments when his shell cracks as well. When the weight of the world seems to slip off his shoulders, just a little. 

He seems to realize she’s stopped and his eye begins to open but she ducks her head, turning back to his hand and continuing. He’s loose but she doesn’t want to pull him out, doesn’t want to make him feel like he has to go back to how he usually is. When she gets to his shoulder again she lets her fingers slide up his neck. His head rolls forward at the lightest press of her fingers. 

She lets them move up from his neck to slip through the golden strands of his hair. His hair is thicker than hers and could definitely do with being washed but a low groan comes from his lips before he can cut it off. Mako looks down, surprised but she doesn’t stop. Not for another minute or two. She cradles his head in her hands and he leans into her touch. She knows this is not easy for him, but she keeps herself steady for what does next. 

"The medic has an appointment tomorrow," she says to him.

"Do i need to see the medic?" he asks, his voice heavy with calm.

"Yes," she says and her other hand gently cups his shoulder. 

He sighs and she feels the muscle tense. 

"Please" she says finally, the word coming out in Japanese. 

One of his eyes opens and he looks at her. She returns his gaze steadily, thankful that she does not have to tell him why. That in the darkest moments the knowledge that they are one day closer to being back in a Jaeger, back in the drift, it is what keeps her going. They will not be desperate for pilots. He will need to pass the physicals. Her thumb brushes the edge of his scar and he sighs softly. 

"What time?"

"Five."

"In the morning?" he questions, breaking her hold to turn and look at her. 

"You don’t sleep," she tells him evenly, not sure why the idea of waking up at five in the morning is an issue.

"After what you just did I might," he says. She rolls her eyes at him, “okay, okay I’ll go," he says holding up his good hand in surrender. 

"Good," she says and puts the bottle back in her pocket. She turns for the door as he leans forward onto his forearms, “I can come back tomorrow if you would like," she offers. 

"Sure," he says, “but I’d rather have you with me in the morning."


End file.
